


A House That Waits

by Nolita



Category: Tegami Bachi | Letter Bee
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 19:53:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4032541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nolita/pseuds/Nolita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He lingers in the hallway, quite the stranger here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A House That Waits

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for up to Ch45.
> 
> I really wanted to write some vignettes and this is the first one I have finished.

His fingers edge, somewhat unsteadily, along the top of the door frame, dislodging dust that the children cannot reach. It piles up against the side of his hand in a clump before falling from the edge, breaking into smaller pieces — they look familiar, perhaps a little like snow? — that come to rest on Sylvette's spotless floor.   
  
Photographs line each wall in arrangements of twos and threes. Some are unfamiliar to Gauche, but the latent effects of Lag's bullet prompt a buzz of recognition as he passes others. The memories are just echoes to him, but the residual sentiment might be more than that. His fingers brush over some of the higher frames; he recognises that he does not belong in any of them.

He lingers in the hallway, quite the stranger here.

This is the place that Gauche calls home.

The corridor thickens with the smell of that milky tinned soup — the one everyone else finds repulsive; the one Gauche and Sylvette like the best. Light shines in from the kitchen too: the door stands ajar and through the gap he can see disgust written all over Lag's face as the boy dutifully bends over to the steaming pot, spoon in hand, to taste test. All unspoken complaints remain as such, because this is a celebration.  
  
From the shadows, he watches Lag force down a mouthful, turning to flash Sylvette a thumbs up, complete with a passably convincing grin to match.

Unnoticed, he steps back, concealed in the dark passageway. But the children call out for Gauche soon enough: Lag's voice elating to a higher pitch and Sylvette's tone steady as ever, and as clear and light as wind chimes.  
  
It is not Gauche who is there to answer them.

This is a house that waited for Gauche, and will continue to wait.

This is a home that is not his, and so it is only fair that he must leave it behind.


End file.
